


Forgotten Things

by Enchanter_101



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 00:17:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21127661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enchanter_101/pseuds/Enchanter_101
Summary: This is another creative writing piece. It's a great way to kick start your brain to write.





	Forgotten Things

Earring backs, bright and small, escaping my grasp while I pull on my hoodie, or pull it off. Buried the nest of blankets and pillows, never to be found after the washer takes them away.  
Earrings, mocking the expensive jewels they wish they could be, creating the illusion of elegance. They fall in step with the backings, disappearing into the washer, drain or rug.  
Tongue rings, broken in half to tumble down my throat. Anxiety chews them with every wave, they shatter and fall away.  
Books in weak cardboard boxes left behind to a drafty home. Empty of everything except those stories, quiet without a mind to bring them to life. Clothes stolen by the dryer, mainly socks. Some are shirts, taken by disapproving parents, or time.  
Memories bubble and roll, some boiling over and being burnt away. Forgotten in time. Innocence, taken in the rapid push of time, sometimes taken even faster by those you watch.  
Blind faith in the giants that guide our world and mind, lost as we grow and we see their cruelty and selfishness. Ability to trust is shattered into pieces too small to recover, even as they pierce our skin, hurting us more than the initial break.  
Squishy earbud inserts, pulled away in the folds of a hoodie, only to fall to the ground at my feet, hidden in the dirt.  
Comfort in my own skin, ripped away as those around me pick at it, trying to peel it from my body, hoping they can see the vulnerable insides.  
Hair, shedding naturally from my body, and unnaturally as I run my hands through it, chunks coming free as stress loosens its hold on my scalp.  
Songs, unable to be found, lost to the tumbling world of code. Ones and zeros hiding the emotions recorded into eternity.  
Stories told in partnership, over ruled by the newest stories, pushing them out and taking space.  
Ideas washed away in a muddled mess of exhaustion, maybe to be rethought later in the future.  
Clarity of thought, dulled with age and lack of sleep, which grows greater with every passing year.  
Sleep fades from view, and so does full consciousness as the stress of responsibility chips away at it, leaving me incapable and sluggish, a zombie trudging in the mob. A sense of home, taken and thrown as I bounce from place to place to experience the special brand of its cruelty.


End file.
